Beyond The Red Curtain
by Eclectify
Summary: SLASH Remus/Sirius. In a small cafe in London a writer meets an enigmatic stranger and learns about truth, beauty, freedom and love...Harry Potter meets Moulin Rogue.


Beyond The Red Curtain 

Rating: Erm…PG-13 probably. It's too tame to be rated R. At least for now.

Warnings: SLASH…which of course goes without saying. And of course it is of the Harry/Draco and Sirius/Remus variety. Depending on which arc you read…but moving on…

Summary: Life is all about Freedom, Beauty, Truth and above all things Love and as one young writer is about to discover during a chance meeting with an enigmatic stranger, the magic of Love is the greatest story to be told…Harry Potter meets Moulin Rouge.

Disclaimer: JK is responsible for the irresistible Remus, the irrepressible Sirius, the adorable Harry, the sexy Draco and other characters you will see here. Baz Lurman is responsible for the phenomena that is Moulin Rouge and the songs are property of their various writers. The young writer, Rhayne Harwood, however is all mine…

Princess: This is the brain child of many late nights spent on AIM with my buddy Charli and my healthy obsession with Moulin Rouge. So this fic is dedicated to Charli Day, aka DuoLordofDeath and That Trumpet Player (go read her stories now!), who's own brand of Moulin Rouge obsession fuelled my own and to Meiko Belle who's call for someone 'Harryfing' "One Day I'll Fly Away" exploded into this series…and to my best friend Seamus Harisen. My own Padfoot and the inspiration behind my Sirius…

Sirius: *pouts* And what am I?

Draco: Irritating?

Sirius: Why you little…*tries to strangle Draco*

Princess: *sighs* And you were being so well behaved…

Remus: You were expecting it to last?

Princess: Good point. Harry! Control your boyfriend!

Draco: Me? I'm the one being strangled here!

Princess: Sirius: Put Draco down. Draco: Shut up. Argh, why do I keep you four around again?

Draco: Because I'm damn sexy.

Harry: Hmm, yes. *leers* That's why _I_ keep you around.

Princess: *rolls eyes* Horny bastards…

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Beyond The Red Curtin

Prologue-"This Is A Story About Love…"

It's raining. Again.

Some jerk in a blue Volvo sends the contents of a very large and very muddy puddle over my long trench coat and I can feel it seeping slowly into the sides of my boots. Just my luck. Now I'll have to spend the day walking around in soggy socks until I can brave the lunacy that is London and head back to the far too expensive hole in the wall I share with an art student from America.

Struggling to close my umbrella, which is not really achieving much except preventing my from getting even more drenched than I already am and making it harder to carry the satchel that keeps falling off my shoulder, I stumble into the quaint café that has been my second home since I arrived in London a couple of months earlier. I'm beginning to wonder if I should have stayed in Australia and the scorching summer I'd left behind.

On seconds thoughts I could get used to all this water.

My usual table, the one in the far corner of the café and diagonal to the door, stands empty much to my relief and I collapse into the plush armchair beside it. The fire crackles loudly just to my left and I almost consider taking off my boots and drying my soggy feet…though I don't think Connie would appreciate that too much. She appears in front of me just as I'm shrugging my trench coat from my shoulders and unwinding the mile long scarf from around my neck.

"Vienna as usual, love?" she asks with a smile as she pushes her glasses back up her nose.

I haven't had a wink of sleep and the creamy Vienna won't help the severe blockage that's taken residence in my brain. I need caffeine and large doses of it.

"I'll have a double espresso today, Connie." I smile at her before emptying the contents of my satchel across the table top, cursing as my biro rolls over the edge and onto the crimson carpet on the other side of the table.

"Rough day already?" Connie laughs as I scowl at the offending pen she's picked up for me. She spares a quick glance at the clock on the wall above the fireplace. "And it's only eleven o'clock. That's a record even for you."

I favour her with a withering look and she takes the hint and leaves to retrieve my espresso before I start scaring away the customers. There's a reason my usual corner has a wide berth of empty sofas and armchairs around it despite it being closest to the fire.

Rummaging through the chaos I've created on the table and snatching up my notebook, I stare at the same blank page I've been staring at since I first sat in this chair two months earlier. And the page would probably remain blank for a good deal longer if this god forsaken writer's block decided to apply for permanent residency.

I'd come to London to live a near penniless existence and follow my dream of becoming a writer. Of course it would have been quite easy to stay at home and live in comfort at my parents house where I had next to no rent to pay, but I was easily swept up in the bohemian notion of a life of poverty to discover the truth, beauty and freedom of the world. How could I become a writer if I had never been outside my own state let alone my own country? England seemed like just the place to start. I would join my fellow bohemians in London…though whether there were bohemians in London I didn't know but I didn't fancy going to France or Italy just yet…and write about truth, beauty, freedom and above all things love.

I knew it had been a bad idea to watch Moulin Rogue that one too many a time.

Sighing, I stare dolefully into the flickering flames of the fire. The sharp clink of cup on saucer as Connie set my espresso down on the small space I'd left just for that purpose jolts me from my reverie and I offer a weak smile of thanks as she retreats back to the counter. I would leave her a large tip for putting up with my moodiness if I didn't spend my only remaining money after living expenses on the coffee itself.

Scowling down at the still blank notebook, I start poking it with the tip of my biro in hope of dislodging some semblance of an idea before I start losing my sanity all together.

It doesn't work.

The soft tinkle of the bell over the door reaches my ears and hungry for some inspiration I glance up at the door. Some guy's just walked in, soaked to the bone much as I had been and he's walking over to the counter. My interest is firmly piqued as it's not one of the regulars that inhabit this place day in and day out. He stops to gaze at the sinful looking chocolate cake that caught my eye yesterday and I shift in my chair to get a closer look.

There was a boy 

_A very strange, enchanted boy…_

On first glance he looks like he's just another elderly gentleman but on closer inspection I realise it's just the streaks of grey in his chestnut hair and the small lines in his face that give the impression. I decide that minus the world worn look he's probably closer to his late thirties.

And, oh my…he's beautiful.

He smiles at Connie and gestures to the cake and my stomach turns into a little puddle inside my body as I watch it light up his…my, my are they gold eyes? No, they're the most amazing shade of amber I have ever seen and certainly not on a human before. He sweeps a strand of silky smooth hair across a perfect cheekbone and away from his eye with one elegant, long fingered hand and I laugh silently as I see Connie flirting shamelessly. Mystery man doesn't seem that interested though he smiles politely. Connie hands him his cake, her hand lingering at little longer than entirely necessary and mystery man turns his gaze out onto the café. I turn mine back to my notebook deciding, with what I am ashamed to admit is a highly goofy grin, my leading man should most definitely have amber eyes and a smile that can light a room. Humming along with the music playing over the stereo system, I start chicken scratching out a rough character sketch, hoping mystery man sits somewhere where I can do a little bit of people watching.

A polite cough interrupts me and I lift my head to dish out a snappy "I'm busy" when I find myself the sole audience to that incredible smile and those amazing eyes.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" he gestures to the armchair on the other side of the table and closest to the fire and I nod dumbly, cursing my uncharacteristic lack of vocal cords and resisting the urge to sigh like a school girl.

"Thank you." And once again I nod dumbly, returning my gaze to the paper on my lap. I manage to find my voice long enough to say, "Move what you need, if you wanna put your cake on the table."

He smiles and pushes my small stack of notes over, piling them neatly on my satchel and placing the plate in the now empty space with another "Thank you."

He sits in silence, eyes drifting now and then between the clock and the door and I realise he's waiting for someone but then again that doesn't surprise me too much. Half an hour and two espressos later and I soon find myself with nothing left to write on my newest protagonist. I sigh and toss my notebook to join the other clutter on the table. Curious amber eyes drift from their contemplation of the fire to rest on mine.

"Problems" he asks pleasantly.

"You could say that." I take a sip of the Latte Connie's just brought over. "Writer's block."

"What are you doing all the way from Australia writing in a London café?"

I allow a little shock to shine in my eyes at his recognition of my accent and he smiles in return.

"I spent a couple of months in Sydney not too long ago." He provides in explanation with a shy tilt to his head and I find it hard not to find myself enjoying the sound of his voice and his unusual accent that sounds not entirely English.

They say he wandered very far 

_Very far_

_Over land and sea…_

"I'm from Perth and to answer your question, I came here to discover my inner bohemian."

"To write about truth, beauty, freedom and above all else love?"

He smiles wryly over his cup of tea and I roll my eyes. "I blame Baz Lurman completely for my soggy socks and my lack of money." And he laughs softly at my sour expression. "The problem is," I continued. "I have never been in love."

His eyes sparkle and I know at that moment the stranger in front me has been…as is…very much in love. There's something in the sparkle of his eyes that stirs some indescribable feeling within and the strange vertigo disorientates me briefly before I can speak. "Though I have a feeling you don't share my predicament."

"No, I can't say that I do." And he holds his hand out across the cluttered table. "Remus Lupin"

"Rhayne Harwood." I shake his hand and take another sip of my coffee. "I don't suppose you'd like to enlighten me?" 

Remus regards me silently and I find myself almost shivering under that intense gaze. There's something knowing…wise…in that gaze and for a moment I can almost imagine I'm sitting in front of someone who truly understands all the inner workings…the mysteries…of life.  

A little shy 

_And sad of eye_

_But very wise_

_Was he…_

"Erm, you don't have to…I'm sorry for my bluntness…" I begin to apologise only to have it cut off by a wave of his hand.

"Please…I am quite used to the blunt approach." His eyes shine with a warm fondness I somehow know is not directed to me but to his lover. The thought causes my lips to curl in a small smile.

"Well, then. If you insist…enlighten me on what it means to love."

And for a brief moment, something akin to a deep sadness flashes across his eyes and I almost wish my words back in my mouth though I don't really understand why. But as quick as it came it is gone and I find myself enraptured as he begins talking in that quiet, almost shy voice of his.

And then one day 

_One magic day he passed my way_

_And while he spoke of many things…_

He talks of friendship, brotherhood, betrayal and love. A love, he says, that overcame all obstacles. It's two o'clock the next time I glance at the clock and once again the tinkling of the bell over the door catches my attention. I glance up briefly to see a tall, dark haired figure slip though before turning my attention back to Remus…only to discover that my storyteller is focused on the figure that has stepped though the door. Almost instantly the dark haired man raises his eyes to meet Remus' and the patrons of the café are rewarded with yet another smile that would put the star's light to shame.

"It's been lovely talking to you, Rhayne." I jerk my eyes back to meet Remus'. "But I have someone here to meet me."

I smile in return and he raises gracefully from his chair to stride across the room. I watch as the dark haired stranger places the sweetest of kisses on his lips before they sit down on a sofa not far away. And I know that this man is the Sirius Black,  love of Remus Lupin's life I have heard so often mentioned over the last two or so hours. And at that moment, watching the two talk in a world solely of their own, I know that to them, the rest of the café no longer exists and I laugh softly to myself. I think I'm beginning to understand…

And this he said to me 

_The greatest thing_

_You'll ever learn_

_Is just to love_

_And be loved in return…_

Picking up my pen and my notebook, I curl up into the armchair and put pen to paper, the soft sounds of David Bowie's _Nature Boy_  and the sound of the biro against the paper drifting into my ears. 

"This is a story about love…"

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End file.
